


The Detective Who Came For Royal Dinner

by Tabz



Category: Game of Thrones (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Gen, cross - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2202576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabz/pseuds/Tabz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei Lannister has a problem and there's only one person in all of Westeros who can help her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Clever Man

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS for Game of Thrones Season 4.
> 
> Author's Note: I wasn't sure this cross-over was going to work, but I love it. I love it so much I wanted to post this first bit before I finished it. Not entirely sure where Sherlock is going from here, but I like the journey.

The Seven Kingdoms were reeling after the unexpected death of King Joffrey. Rumors swelled and the official word of the murderer being his own uncle did little to assuage the rumors.

“Your highness,” a timid voice came from behind Cersei Lannister’s chair.

“What do you want?” She demanded, turning around in her chair to look at the servant who had just spoken.

“There’s a man, a clever man that the Seven have brought to our kingdom, who may be able to help in your grief.” The servant licked his lips. “He’s said to contain the knowledge of a thousands years.”

“Knowledge,” Cersei scoffed. “What good does knowledge do me? Leave me alone or I’ll feed my grief by watching your tongue pulled out. Impertinent.”

The servant lowered his head in deference and turned back to his chore of bring in firewood. Cersei, however, could not get his words out of her head. Just before the man left the chambers she said, “come here.”

The man tensed with worry and slowly turned. “Yes, my queen.”

“Tell me that again.”

Keeping his eyes downcast, the servant said softly. “There’s a clever man who knows things. Things that people should not know. It is said that he appeared one night fully formed without mother or father. It is said…”

Cersei snorted. “So much said, so little action. Bring this man to me. Bring him tonight.”  
  
Again, the servant licked his lips and hesitated. “Your grace, it’s not an easy task to find the clever man. They say he never stays in one place too long and…” He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I’m only your humble servant.”

Cersei fished in her pocket and pulled out three golden dragons. “Take along money if you need to gain information as to his whereabouts.”

The servant bowed his head. “As you wish, your grace.”

* * *

 

The search for the clever man took awhile and a couple golden dragons, but eventually Derk, servant to Queen Cersei, had discovered his location. He was in the backroom of a brothel house. A thin, red-headed girl from Lorath ushered Derk into the room. There, laying on a large plush couch was the clever man. A man who had simply appeared by will of the Seven, if the stories were to be believed. He spoke in impossible to understand words, or so Derk had been told. He was a rumor and a puzzle all rolled into one. An amazing person who, at that moment, appeared to be asleep.

Derk cleared his throat. Nothing happened. Derk cleared it a bit louder. There a snort, a cough, and a bleary, but deep voice said, “oh go away Mrs. Hudson, it’s too early.”

“If it pleases you, sir,” Derk said hesitantly. “It’s nearly evening.”

The man on the couch opened an eye and stared at Derk for what seemed like an eternity. “Like I said. Too. Early.” And with that he snapped his eye shut again and rolled over.

“Please, sir. I come on request from the Queen.”

“We have a Queen?” The sleepy, deep voice commented. “John told me once, but I didn’t believe him.”

“John, sir?”  
  
The man sat up suddenly, as if someone had stuck him. “Look,” he looked Derk up and down. “Look, servant man, I have the strangest feeling that you are not going to be going away unless I listen to your problem. So please, tell me quickly, stick to the facts, and then be on your way so I can sleep.”

“I’m sure that you have heard the King is dead.”

A look of puzzlement took over the clever man’s face. “You just said we had a Queen.”

“Yes, sir… but the Queen Mother, it is her son, King Joffrey has been murdered.”

Suddenly there was a fierceness in the clever man’s eyes. He jumped up and got very close to Derk. Uncomfortably close. “Murder? Did you say murdered?”

“Yes, sir.”

The clever man grabbed a chair and whirled it in a small circle and set it in front of Derk. “Chair. Sit. Tell. Details and facts.”

So Derk told him everything. Of the King’s wedding feast, the terrible choking, and the King dying in his mother’s arms.

“And before this, his health was fine?” The clever man asked.

“As fit and spry as any young man should be,” Derk said.

“As fit as you are?”

Derk looked puzzled.

“Look, you are a servant in the royal house, you have been lifting at least 50 kilos all day, and haven’t been sick a day in your life. Was the king this healthy?”

Derk nodded. “He had a great vitality about him.”

The clever man put his fingers together under his chin. “I accept the case.”

“The case?” Derk said.

“Is everyone in this world extremely dull?” Sherlock clapped the servant on his shoulder. “Go back to whomever you said sent for me and tell them Sherlock Holmes accepts the case and I shall be there in time for dinner.”

“Are you going to be wearing that?” Derk said looking the man up and down.

“This?” Sherlock asked looking down at his suit and long jacket. “Of course.”

Derk handed over his last Gold Dragon. “The women here can tell you where to find better clothes. Tell them you’re in need of an outfit fit for royalty.”

Sherlock glanced at the coin in his palm. “There’s a dragon on this. Do you know, I have a strange affinity for dragons.” There was a pause as Sherlock realized once again that Derk wasn’t understanding what he was saying. “John would have laughed,” Sherlock grumbled. “Now go! I’ll be by later tonight.”

* * *

 

True to the great detective’s word he arrived at the castle well after dark. He was in clothing that better suited Westros, but not him. Sherlock tugged at his collar as he waited to be ushered in through the castle gates. He fidgeted with a nervous energy that hadn’t left him since he had arrived in this strange land.

After some explaining and explaining again to various strange men, Sherlock found himself in Cersei’s private rooms. Derk ushered Sherlock in. Sitting at the table was Cersei, her father, and Grand Measter Pycelle. On the table was a lush dinner. All manner of color fruits covered the table in addition to flowers and vines. Large goblets of what Sherlock perceived was wine sat at each seat.

“Your highness, I present Sherlock Holmes of London,” Derk said with a low bow.

“Of London?” Grand Measter Pycelle’s voice wheezed. “Where is this London?”

“Half a world away, but that’s not the subject of tonight’s conversation surely. Also, you probably would get better health if you stopped chasing naked women around,” Sherlock said dryly. “Such overexertion can tax you before a big meal.”

Tywin Lanister raised an eyebrow. “Are you a spy?” He asked simply.

Sherlock stepped closer to the table and cocked his head to one side. “Has anyone told you that wine is bad for your condition?”

Tywin didn’t even blink. “Also not the subject of tonight’s conversation.”

Sherlock pulled out the empty chair and sat. 

“Holmes, can you tell me who killed my son?” Cersei asked.

“We know who killed your son,” Pycelle said.

Sherlock waved at him dismissively. “I can.”  
  
“Then I don’t care who you are or where you’re from,” Cersei said as she took a drink of her goblet. “Do this and you will be rewarded.”

“Oh the work is it’s own reward.”

“They say you are clever.”

“I am.”

“Prove it.”

Sherlock smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was the kind of smile one gives someone they perceive to be beneath them. Sherlock plucked up one of the dark red fruits and bit into it as he leaned back in his chair. “You are Cersei, queen mother to the late King Joffrey. You are worried about losing your good looks, you’ve been sneaking out at night without your servants’ knowledge, and you don’t believe in the power of any of your gods but The Mother.”

Ceresi’s eyes widened, briefly, but soon she regained her calm. “This is a trick. A hollow trick.”

“No trick,” Sherlock said mildly as he set the fruit down. “I see a lot of brand new bottles on your dressing table. Obviously new because the light dust that’s settled on the small collection of old ones is not matched on the nearly twenty new ones. When a woman buys that much cosmetics, she’s worried about losing her looks. As for the nightly sneaking…”

Tywin coughed. “How will you find my grandson’s killer?”

Sherlock turned to the man. “I have my methods.”

“And when can you start?”

“I already have.”

“What do you need?”

“I’ll need to interview as many of the witnesses as possible. Starting with the three of you. I am assuming you were all there.”

“Correct.”

“Then I’ll need some money, not much, but enough to get me through the next couple days travel and investigation.” Sherlock rubbed his hands together. "And dinner. I was promised dinner." 

"You told us you were coming to dinner," Twyin said gruffly.

"Like I said," Holmes said with that same unique smile. "Promised dinner."


	2. There's a Blue Box Somewhere in All of This...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crack crossover deserves a crack response. 
> 
> Sherlock needs some help and he gets his best friend!

The evening had grown late by the time that Sherlock left the castle gates. Cersei, Twyin, and Pycelle had been less than helpful. They had told Sherlock next to nothing about the death. Superstition and fear seemed to rule the kingdom. Sherlock had enough of it. He went over the slim amount of facts in his head. The boy king had been fine until the wedding feast then, in front of a large group of guests he had started choking and within minutes had died. He needed to investigate the body, which everyone said was impossible. 

“Sherlock?” Someone whispered from besides one of the buildings.

“John?” Sherlock tilted his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Your friend… the one with the blue box… he said you needed me.”

Sherlock snorted. “He would.”  
“What are we doing? And a better question, why are we doing it and WHERE are we?” 

Sherlock looked around at the medieval-looking street. Torches lit along the path way rather than electric lights. “I just assumed we were in Croatia.”

“Croatia has electric lights,” John said rubbing his face. “Did you really not realize this is weird?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Malta then.”

John sighed. “We’re not any place that I know of. Unless we somehow came to the land of the medieval cosplayers. We should go back home. Mary is going to be worried about us.”

“Can’t. Have a case.”  
“A case?” John pointed at Sherlock. “This isn’t London. I’m not even sure this is earth. Some wanker just asked me if I was for sale.”

“What did you tell him?”

John sighed again. “Can’t we just go home?”

“You can, where’s the blue box?”

“Gone. Just kind of disappeared.”

“Then I guess we can’t. Let’s catch a killer.”

“A killer?” 

“A killer.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Someone killed the king.”

“Sherlock…”

“No seriously, someone has poisoned the king. They think the midget did it, but I doubt it.”

“Little person.”

“What?” Sherlock said.

“They prefer to be called little people. Not midgets.”

“Will that solve our case?” Sherlock asked.

“No.”

“Then not relevant. I don’t have the storage space for all this new information. Now, Watson, are you prepare to break into a church?”

“A church?” 

“A scept? I don’t know what they call it, but it’s where the body is.”

“I don’t really have a choice do I?”

“Not really, unless you want to meet the whores.”

“Whores?" John rubbed his face again. "Never mind. Lead the way.”


End file.
